


closer to you

by liebstes



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Porn With Plot, Tenderness, basically 5k of fluff 1k of porn, they just... take care of each other.....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liebstes/pseuds/liebstes
Summary: 3 times Theseus made Asterius yearn and the 1 time they did something about it.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 442





	closer to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corvoattano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvoattano/gifts).



> time for monsterfucking yall!!!
> 
> prompt given to me by corvoattano through my ko-fi, who requested either theseus/asterius bodyworshipping or top zag thanzag! i went with the first but definitely might write the latter soon : ) i feel like the prompt was definitely just for some short smut but i ended up writing a much longer piece and incorporating more story, hope you don't mind!!  
> WARNINGS  
> 1-3 are all sfw and the +1 is smut, just in case that's not your vibe!

1.

Not much happened in Erebus. 

The dark, cold demeanor of the realm didn’t leave much to the imagination, really. Ever since Asterius was cast here awaiting punishment from Hades, he hasn’t done much other than… wander. The other shades here tended to ignore him– being a minotaur in a place full of humans would do that. 

So, he was left to meander the gloomy corridors of Erebus, where he belonged. Where he would spend the rest of eternity. Until Charon showed up, that is. 

He had appeared seemingly out of thin air, surprising Asterius. The figure only motioned with a hand toward his boat on a body of black water, and Asterius knew it was his time. He would face Hades and be fit with whatever punishment was deemed necessary. Perhaps another labyrinth, once again with no escape, no life, nothing. Or maybe he’ll be hunted by humans over and over, forced to relive his death. 

Charon offered no indication as to where they were going, and Asterius did not question him. However, when the water turned to something pale and wispy, the air suddenly clear and colors of blue and green began to fill his vision, he was confused. 

“Are you not taking me to meet with Hades? I still await my sentencing.” 

The boatman simply gazed upon him, purple smoke hazing out lazily. “Hnnnnnngh.” 

He snorted. “I do not understand. I am meant to see Hades, not be here,” Asterius insisted, but the boatman carried on paddling. As they made their way further and further into the realm, he realized where he was. 

So, they aim to taunt him? To throw everything the dead wish for, the splendors and luxury of Elysium, before tossing him in some cell to rot away? Perhaps the Fates are crueler than expected. 

Asterius keeps his eyes trained on the bottom of the boat out of defiance, refusing to even acknowledge what is laid out before him. He wished the boatman could paddle faster. 

“Gguhhhhhh, _hrrrrrn,_ ” Charon grumbled, pulling to a stop. Asterius looked up. They were still in Elysium.

“What are you doing?” he questioned. Charon did not reply other than a large puff of smoke. He once again gestured with his hand, motioning to the land they were stopped at. 

“Take me to Hades,” Asterius demanded, “or back to Erebus. I do not belong here.” 

Charon grumbled again, remaining motionless. He did not seem to be a trickster, Asterius reasoned, yet refused to take him to his final destination. “This place is for heroes,” he tries, becoming more and more frustrated the longer they stay here. The more clean air he breathes in, the more he knows the eventual rotten, sour air he’s destined to be surrounded with will hurt. 

He is dead. No use for pride, not anymore. “Please,” he begs. 

The boatman once again motions with his hand, but this time, something catches Asterius’ eye. There is a figure moving toward them, short and tan and smaller than himself. It is not the usual green shade he has grown accustomed to. 

“Is that really– You’ve arrived! Minotaur, you’ve arrived!” 

His eyesight is not that of a human’s, so it takes him a few seconds to recognize the figure. As soon as he does, his mind is filled with _hurt blood darkness pain spear._ The mortal who had conquered him, who had finally ended his life with a sharp thrust of his weapon, he was here. 

Perhaps this was his hell. 

“Oh, they’ve finally listened to me! Took them long enough, I tell you, but even they cannot ignore the likes of such greatness! Come, bovine, let me introduce you to the splendors of Elysium!” The man prattled on, getting close enough to the boat to offer a hand to Asterius as if to guide him. 

He did not seem to possess a weapon. Asterius stares at him, searching for a dagger hidden under his tunic, or perhaps by his belt. He is bare. 

“Come, my rival, does your heart not yearn to witness the wonders of this place? I know you have the ability to speak, you cannot fool me!” the man boasts, eyeing Asterius as if _he_ were the odd one here. 

He finally finds his voice. 

“No.” 

The man– Theseus, he suddenly remembers hearing the warrior cry his name as they fought in the labyrinth, Theseus looked shocked. His offered hand fell limp. 

“No?!” he echoes, “You reject the offerings of Elysium? Come, I have saved you from that other hell, come with me!” 

“Elysium is for heroes,” Asterius says, “I am meant to be punished by Hades. This is not my place.” 

“No, I have saved you!” Theseus insists, “I have requested for you to be brought here, with me! In life, you were my greatest rival, and in death, I shall accept nothing but to battle with the most formidable foe of my time. Come, won’t you?” 

Ah. So, he is to be the warrior’s plaything. It beats spending eternity in a dark maze, he figures. 

He accepts Theseus’s hand. 

*

“And this, this, dear bovine, is the arena of Elysium! I expect us to become quite familiar with this place, you see. We shall have many victories here.” 

“Do you wish to battle now?” Asterius questions. He does not possess any weapons and is only clothed by the thin cloth provided in Erebus. He assumes the warrior shall keep him as such. 

“My, there is no one here to battle, not yet! But once they hear our names, why, we shan’t have a moment alone, I assure you!” Theseus gestures to the empty stadium. 

The warrior’s voice was starting to cause an ache in his head. It has been very long since another had talked to him like this. His words did not make much sense. “If you wish to fight me, let us begin.” 

The man looks at him and promptly laughs. Asterius snorts before he can stop himself. 

“No, you are mistaken! I do not wish to battle you, dear rival. I brought you here to fight _with_ me, to grant you that honor! I expect us to become quite unstoppable, together!” 

His brain was whirling, trying to make sense of his statements. “You do not wish to slay me? Am I not your prize?” 

The smile falls from the warrior’s face, and he steps forward toward Asterius. The minotaur steps backward. “No, I– you are not a lowly prize to me, bull! You were my greatest rival in life, the only one who came close to best me, save for my final fall. I wished for us to reside here, as equals. To fight, as equals!” 

Asterius searched the man’s face. His experience with humans was usually short and intensive, but he knew they could covey emotion quite easily. Theseus seemed sincere. 

“To fight,” Asterius confirms, “as equals.” 

2.  
He still expected the boatman to appear. 

Someone must eventually find out he was here, Asterius figures. Whatever mistake happened that caused him to be here, in Elysium, was not one to be long-lived, he was sure of it. 

“Oh, stop fretting, dear Asterius. I can see in your gaze how your brain is turning itself over. We are here to do work, to give you the image of the Champions we are to unexpectedly become. A Champion does not possess such matted mane, I’m sure of it!” Theseus says. He was sat on the edge of the spring, bare except for a cloth covering his loin. 

His insistence on cleaning Asterius was one long-fought. At first, Asterius brushed him off, confident the boatman would return any minute to fetch him. As the days rolled on Theseus’ persuading only grew stronger, until the bull finally relented and accepted new clothes. Gone were the dirty scrap clothing of Erebus, in their place were clean, white linens. It had taken Theseus a few more days to get them to come here. 

“You do not need to bathe with me,” Asterius assures again, “that is something I am able to accomplish alone.” 

_Alone._ Something he spent so much of life as, but not lately. No, ever since he had stepped onto the grasses of this realm, Theseus was by his side. At first, he thought it was simply because the warrior wished to battle him, then, because the warrior desired him to act as a trophy of battle. It was not until later that he accepted Theseus was with him because he wanted to be. 

“Nonsense, Asterius! If you wish to become as beautiful as I, surely you will need help. Besides, you need someone to cut your locks, do you not?” 

He ran a hand through his mane. It _was_ getting long, was it? He has not been in possession of anything to cut it himself since his death. He did not think he would again. 

He accepts his faith, removing the clothes he wore in order to enter the spring. 

“My, look at you! What a specimen you are, indeed. If I were any lesser man you would have me blushing!” 

Asterius blinks. He had removed all his clothing, not in possession of a small cloth like the warrior. He snorts in response, confused. 

The water is cool as he enters, but not uncomfortably so, just like the rest of Elysium. He wades in until his waist is submerged, unsure what to do with Theseus’ presence still here. 

“Come, I shall assist you in grooming. Your hair shall look much better once cut, I’m sure of it,” Theseus says, breaking him of his trance. He sits on the edge still, small blade at his side. He had worn such clothing when he conquered Asterius, but this time the minotaur was granted the peace to look for as long he pleases. 

He makes his way over to the warrior, fighting against every single instinct as he faces away, allowing Theseus to access his mane. 

“Wonderful,” he hears the king mutter. There’s a sudden pressure on his back– a hand, he realizes. It begins stroking through his hair, untangling the larger knots, even washing away some of the grime on his back. 

Asterius feels slightly like he might perish again. Never had he known such a touch, nor had he any idea the warrior possessed one as soft as this. The fingers tugging through his hair was insistent but gentle, present yet soothing. 

“Now, let us see if we can make you more presentable, my friend,” Theseus says, quietly for once. The term of endearment was still fresh, still making Asterius’ mind spin whenever the king used it, trying to determine who he was talking about. 

“Okay,” he huffs, unsure what his role in this was. 

“Now, do not move, or I fear I shall pierce you with this blade. I mean only to cut your hair, not you.”

Oh, the irony. 

He feels Theseus tug his hair to cause tension, working swiftly across it with the blade. He could not tell where or how much he was cutting, exactly. He found he did not care. Hair began to fall upon the water, floating around to the front of Asterius’ gaze. It was strange, seeing his locks in the crystal reflection of the water. In life, he had known no such sight. He did not expect that to change in death. 

Theseus works to the top of his head, pushing his shoulder down slightly as a sign to lower his height. His hands now brush over the base of his horns, pushing the hair that falls on his face away, meeting with the blade. He closes his eyes. 

“Now, that is much better, dear bull. You need to simply wish it clean now, I suppose! Allow me–”

Before he had a chance to decline, there was water being dumped over his head, careful to avoid the front of his face. He whips around to see Theseus gather more water with his hands formed in the shape of a cup, ready to repeat the motion. 

“Come, do not trouble me. I am almost done! Then, we shall be the talk of all the shades I reckon, Asterius!” 

He turns back around. Allows Theseus to clean his newly shorn hair. 

“How do you feel about laurels, Asterius? It’s only proper for a hero to adorn them! You would look rather dashing in blue, I must say!” 

_Grant me one more day here, Fates. Please._

3\. 

“What a _fool!_ How dare he, how dare he, Asterius, say such wretched things! Not only is he of such dishonor, but his prowess in battle leaves much to be desired!” 

“Yes, king,” Asterius responds, mostly indifferent. The warrior they’d battled– Heracles, was it?– had been particularly boastful, insulting them far before they’d stepped foot in the arena. It did not take long for him to fall. 

“Oh, and what he said about you, dear friend! Why, I almost pierced him with the spear right then, believe me!”

“Yes, king.” The warrior had taken a special interest in Asterius, for whatever reason. Taunting him with those meaningless words did not hurt him, but Theseus always seemed to get upset enough for both of them. 

Theseus turns to him, still in the process of changing his clothes. The fight hadn’t been long, but the blood and sweat accumulated on their bodies remain. 

“I trust you shall not take his jabs to heart, my dear bull. You possess more honor in your finger than he does his whole body, believe me that!” 

He snorts, taking off his chiton. “Of course, my king.” 

Theseus nods, satisfied. “Good, then, perhaps–” he stops, body frozen as his eyes fall below Asterius’ gaze. 

He looks down. It is just his chest. “What,” he demands. 

“I– your– is that… is that from me?” Theseus asks, eyes locked onto his left pectoral. It is perhaps the fewest amount of words he’s heard him say. 

Asterius follows his gaze, finding the thick patch of scarred skin that resides there. Ah. 

“That is from when you slew me in battle, yes,” he responds, not sure why the king is so focused on it. The marks they gain here in Elysium never stay long, but those from his time on the surface remain. He has seen the marks that adorn Theseus as well. 

“Oh,” he says in a small voice. “Oh, I just– I’ve never noticed it before, my friend. Can I–” Theseus says, once again stopping himself. He moves toward Asterius, eyes never leaving the mark. He stops about a foot away, hand raised in question. “Do you– permit me to touch, Asterius? Is that acceptable?”

“Yes,” he responds without thinking, feeling desperate, but for what he does not know. He feels the king’s presence, so close to him, as the hand continues to barely touch the scar, hesitant. His breathing quickens as the palm is laid flat on the chest. 

“Are you alright, dear friend?” Theseus asks, finally moving his gaze to match Asterius’. His eyes are wide, cerulean blue seeming impossibly bright to him, reminding Asterius instantly of the waters they visit. 

“Yes,” he repeats, not wanting to break this moment. Theseus’ hand is warm and stable on him, nearly covering the whole scar as his fingertips move slightly. He feels the air grow hotter the longer they remain here. He wishes to never leave. 

“You are… you are truly a magnificent creature, Asterius. To have known you in life was one of my greatest pleasures,” Theseus admits, gaze returning to his hand. He’s grateful for the hair covering his face, hiding the heat rising from his words. The hand feels impossibly warm on his chest, and he begins to wonder where that hand might feel elsewhere. 

He snorts, gold ring swaying gently. “My king,” he says, unsure how to respond. That only makes Theseus smile, hand finally lowering. 

“My bull,” he responds in kind. 

+1

He waits in their chamber under the arena, able to hear enough from above to expect Theseus to enter when he does, cheer of the crowd fading. The door has barely closed before Theseus opens his mouth. 

“That daemon! How dare he, an insignificant wretch of a monster, come into _our_ arena! His fighting was one of deceit and dishonor, Asterius!” Theseus grumbles, pacing back and forth. 

The challenger had gotten closer to defeating them than any of their previous battles. The king was handling it as well as expected. 

“Do not let that short one dishonor you, king.” 

Theseus gasps, shocked. “Dare say, you are not defending him, are you?! He is far beneath us, Asterius, next time I shall best him even quicker, I assure you!” 

He snorts. The challenger was new, and Asterius could tell the strength that resided within him was one of passion and intensity, not the pride or nostalgia that remained prevalent in Elysium. It was a nice change of pace. Theseus didn’t need to know that. 

“We shall beat him next time,” Asterius agrees, still slightly sore from his death. The flame-footed stranger had focused on him first, knocking arrow after arrow in his bow that never seemed to miss. The last he heard before he dematerialized was the strangled cry of Theseus, “ _Asterius, no!_ ”

He is seated on a chaise, mind replaying the battle, thinking of where he’d missed and ways to dodge easier. Theseus sits beside him quietly.

“When you perished, I–” Theseus says, “I almost lost control, you know. Succumbed to the rage of your death. But I prevailed.” 

Asterius snorts. “I apologize.” 

Theseus turns to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “No, that was not my purpose of telling you, dear friend. I do not blame you! I just– it is foolish for me to say, perhaps, but I feared I had lost you. Again.” 

His touch burns pleasantly. “I’m here, king. We shall not be separated,” he reassures him, thoughts of Charon and Hades far from his mind. 

“Yes, yes, I know,” Theseus says, placing his other hand on Asterius’ leg. “And yet,” he continues, “and yet, I can’t help but feel the need to be… close with you, after such an encounter. A feeling I repress rather often, I’ll have you know.” 

There is a flush to the king’s face not usually present. 

“Are we not close now?” Asterius questions, motioning to their thighs that touch as they sit closely together. The king’s words have… other implications. Dangerous, desirable implications. 

“We are,” Theseus admits, “but not in the manner I truly yearn for, I find. Do you understand what I wish to say, Asterius?” 

It was not often the king danced around his words rather than say what he wants bluntly. It was a cause for concern, at least to him. 

“No. Are you alright?” 

Theseus sighs, the hands he has on Asterius squeezing gently. He wishes the king would remove them, they’re proving to be rather distracting. 

“I have no physical ailment, dear friend, but I fear it is a matter of the heart. The time we’ve spent together, why, it has been nothing short of wonderful. Our bond has grown, we’ve gained the titles of Champions, and yet there is still one thing missing. I fear my time in Elysium will not be complete without it.” 

His mind was racing. Does Theseus wish for more Ambrosia? Perhaps new weapons? Fresh enemeis to battle? “What do you require?” he questions, “We shall obtain it, king.” 

Theseus gives a short laugh. “Face me, if you please, Asterius. I shall show you.” 

He obliges, turning to face the king as they sit together on the chase. What object could he possibly desire that must be explained with gestures, not words? He doesn’t have time to entertain this idea before a hand is brought up to this face, stroking the side of his muzzle. 

Asterius’ eyes widen out of surprise, inching back slightly. “King, what…?” 

“Can I not touch you?” Theseus questions softly, perhaps the quietest he’s ever been, and his eyebrows tilt down gently in a sign of… sorrow, perhaps? There’s a churning in his gut and a desire to fix _whatever_ is making Theseus look like this. 

“If you so wish,” he replies, confused as to the king’s motive here but pliant nonetheless. Theseus returns his hand, stroking the short hair with his thumb. “You’re so,” Theseus says, hesitating, “so soft.” 

“I–” Asterius rambles, eyes darting around, searching for something to explain what is happening. He clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says. 

Theseus brings up another hand to trace gently at his nose ring, making it just barely sway, then bringing it down to rest on his chest. Time feels frozen. 

“Is this… alright, dear friend? I do not wish to offend you,” Theseus says.

“I take no such offense. I just– you–,” Asterius replies, trying to make sense between his rapidly moving brain and his mouth. “It is not necessary,” he finishes. 

Theseus scoffs. “Most the things we do are not necessary, Asterius! We do them because we take pleasure in these actions. And I, well, I take pleasure in this.” 

He leans forward until their faces are mere inches apart, and never has Asterius been able to see his eyes so clearly, the cerulean blue that seems to be a motif in Elysium but looks infinitely better on Theseus. 

“Simply say if you do not desire me as well,” Theseus says, one hand still holding his face steady. Asterius can feel his heart beating faster, the tips of his hands itching to grab _something_ , the unfamiliarity of this situation breathing down the back of his neck. 

“I do,” he whispers, brokenly. “I do,” he echoes, emboldened by Theseus’ gaze and the smile growing on his lips. 

“Asterius, my bull,” Theseus says, “my dearest companion, please. Let me celebrate you.” A hand slips under his chiton, wandering, until it falls off his shoulder completely. 

“King, no, I should–” Asterius starts, overwhelmed by his feelings, “do not debase yourself. A– A warrior of your stature, why, I should be serving you–” 

Theseus laughs, rich and hearty, breaking him of the trance they’ve surrounded themselves with. “I have not heard you jest in quite some time, Asterius! Your humor is truly–”

“I do not joke,” Asterius huffs. 

The smile drops, replaced by a slight frown. “If you do not joke then what is it you’ve just said to me? Because surely, that was not said with serious intentions,” Theseus says. 

“It is true.” 

With eyebrows furrowed once more, Theseus casts him a look. “Do not say such foolish things, my friend. I shall do as I please, as long as you are agreeable! There is no debasement in pleasuring the one I love!” 

Oh. 

_Oh._

“Love,” Asterius echoes. It’s quite hard to think with Theseus’ touch still present. “Love?” he questions. 

“Yes, love! Are you not familiar with the term?” 

Asterius almost laughs. “I know its meaning, king. I just– you feel that? For me?” 

“Aboslutely,” he says without hesitation. “Purely. Wholly. It’s all I feel sometimes,” Theseus admits, voice dropping. “I was lucky to have met you in life, but in death? In death, we have become something far beyond of that which I thought possible. You’ve become something far beyond that.” 

“Oh,” Asterius says, trying to process all this information and the myriad feelings whirling around in his head and heart. “Oh. Well, then. I love you as well.”

Theseus smiles, lacking the usual guard he adorns in public, in its place is pure adoration. “You haven’t the slightest idea of how that pleases me, my friend. My bull. I–” he says, stopping suddenly. He leans forward again, bringing their lips together gingerly. Asterius can feel his ring press against Theseus, but decides it’s of little significance as he feels a hand tug at his hair instead. 

Theseus pushes at him gently, a flat palm on his chest. He lies back on the chaise, Theseus hovering above him like some sort of deity blessed by Aphrodite herself. 

“Oh Asterius,” Theseus breathes out, “look at you, so wonderfully splayed out, as if a blessing from the Gods above–” but stops himself in favor of stroking down Asterius’ chest, feeling the hair and muscles, his scars and bumps. “Such beauty,” he finishes. 

“Not necessary,” Asterius exhales. “It’s– not necessary, king. To say such things.” 

“My, what is it today with you commanding me!” Theseus laughs. “I am of free will, Asterius. I believe I can say whatever I wish for that matter!” 

“No, I do not intend to control you,” Asterius explains, “it is just, unneeded. I am already yours. You do not need to… praise me.” 

“But if that is my desire?” Theseus questions, “If all I wish is to show you– tell you, what you mean to me, why, would that be unwelcomed?” 

He was torn. He did not want to reject Theseus, but his thoughts insisted it was unbecoming of a king, a warrior. “You may do as you like,” he compromised. 

Theseus grinned sharply in response. “That is a dangerous proposition, my dear!” he says as he sits back on his knees, admiring the minotaur laid out before him. Asterius was beginning to feel like he was a spectacle– being stared at so blatantly. “What are you doing?” he questions.

Theseus runs a hand down his abdomen, curling his fingers in the hair, making something in Asterius’ belly lunge. “Simply admiring the view, my friend. I, more than others, should know when to appreciate a gift, hm? All that Ambrosia was good practice for this!” he says, thumbing at Asterius’ belt. He lifts his hips as a suggestion to remove the garments, but a firm hand pushes them back down. 

“Not yet, my bull. Let me celebrate the rest of you, yes? I wish to take my time with this, seeing that we are in no shortage of it!” Theseus says, retracting from the chaise to kneel on the floor next to Asterius’ calves and feet. 

Asterius wanted to argue, to insist Theseus move to a more respectable position– but a look from the man kept him silent. “Let me do as I like,” Theseus says, quoting Asterius’ own words. He nods, helpless as the king grabs a foot gently, tracing up the ankle and calf muscles with a finger, and moving back down to smooth over the raised hairs  
Theseus squeezes the back muscle of his calf gently, switching legs to give the same treatment. His finger drags up to Asterius’ knee, at which point he retracts his grip only to replace it with a kiss seconds later. “So strong,” he praises, switching between pressing small kisses and wandering fingers to the joint, moving over to his other knee. 

“King,” Asterius mutters, stuck between closing his eyes out of embarrassment and respecting Theseus by keeping his gaze. His decision is made for him as the king speaks, “Watch as I cherish you, Asterius. Follow my movements, know that I act purely out of love and adoration, my bull. I shall cherish you as mortals do to the Gods above, I swear on it.” 

Asterius groans, overwhelmed by his words and request, helpless to Theseus’ gaze as he moves onto his lower thigh. He drags his hands up and down the side muscles, pressing kisses and sucking softly intermittently. “The strength you possess here,” Theseus mutters, grasping his thighs, “extraordinary, my dear. Simply exquisite!” 

Were he in any other position Asterius would recoil, demand the king stop with such foolish sayings, but now the presence of Theseus is so consuming, so full of raw emotion all he can do is nod. 

He makes his way to the bottom of Asterius’ skirt, and there’s a fleeting hope that he might remove it. Instead, Theseus smooths down the cloth, presses one last kiss to his thigh, and moves to his belly. Asterius is starting to get affected by the king’s touch, surely obvious by the way Theseus lays over him, yet he pays it no mind. 

He suckles over Asterius’ belly, tongue dipping out to tease his naval causing an ear to flick in response, hands gripping his sides. “So beautiful, I’m afraid mere words cannot describe,” Theseus mutters, pressing a kiss square on his stomach. 

“I did not know for you to be at a loss for words,” Asterius teases, all coherency suddenly leaving as Theseus leans down to take a nipple in his mouth. He laves his tongue about, nipping slightly before retracting to say, “You make me feel many things I would not otherwise experience, my friend. I’ve come to welcome it.” 

“Mhm,” he utters, entranced with the view of Theseus marking his chest, rubbing one pectoral with his hand as he kisses the scar on the other. His attention stays focused on the mark, kissing the perimeter before suckling in the center, resting his head there briefly. “To know I caused you such pain in life, Asterius, wounds me. But the knowledge that it led us here, well…” 

“The Fates were gracious to us,” Asterius adds. He feels bare when confronted with his past. “I did not know luxury or kindness in life. I am thankful for each day I have here, with you.” 

“Oh, you loving fool!” Theseus grins, delighted. “I feel the same, my friend, truly. I hope you know how much I cherish you,” he says, rising suddenly to suck on Asterius’ neck, causing him to groan. 

“You– you show it well, king.” 

He feels a mouth smile against his neck. Teeth biting down gently. “I’m glad,” he hears. Theseus brings his hands to tease at his nipple while he laves Asterius’ neck, nosing at its junction in affection, making the bull’s heart lurch. “Let me, may I touch you, king?” he asks, sounding much more desperate than intended. 

“Of course, Asterius. But allow me to stay focused on you, yes? My affections are not yet sufficiently showcased, I’m afraid!” 

At his permission he brings his hands up to grip Theseus’ waist, looking comically small in his grasp. Theseus returns to his neck, making his way up and under his chin. He noses along there too, pressing small kisses. 

“You are mine, are you not? In the same sense I belong to you, my bull?” Theseus questions suddenly.

“Of course,” Asterius replies without hesitation. “We are one. Intricately connected.” 

Theseus hums against him, smiling. He rises so that he’s sitting on Asterius’ stomach, leaning forward to bring their mouths close. “Then let me make love to you, Asterius, please. If you would be amendable,” he says, closing the distance to kiss him. 

His grip on Theseus’ waist tightens considerably before he has the mind to loosen it, emboldened by his words. “Yes,” he huffs, “whatever you would like, yes.” 

Theseus strokes his ears, twitching in response, before placing one last kiss on the top of his nose. He stands, motioning Asterius to raise his hips. “If you would be so kind, my dear, I wish to remove these now.”

He complies silently, allowing Theseus to pull the garments off and to the floor. Theseus takes his own chiton and skirt off, climbing back onto Asterius to sit on him once more. The movement causes his ass to brush against the minotaur’s member, hips twitching in response. 

“Look at you,” Theseus praises, reaching behind with one hand to grasp his cock. “Is that from me touching you, Asterius? Have my own words caused this?”

“Yes,” Asterius snorts, eyes fluttering shut. “All– from you, Theseus.” 

“And how lucky I am, to be blessed by the Gods, surely,” he says, moving from his positon of straddling Asterius to kneeling in the space between his open thighs, facing his cock that rests heavily against his thigh. 

Theseus grasps him with a hand, fingers just barely wrapping his length, and strokes him to full hardness. All Asterius can do is gasp, hips twitching uselessly as he mutters, “King, I–” 

“Oh, how your sounds please me,” Theseus says deeply. “To know the pleasure I cause you, my, it’s wonderful, Asterius. Please, do not silence yourself!” 

He nods as Theseus strokes his cock faster, aided by the stream of pre-cum leaking from his tip, before rubbing intensely under the head, making Asterius arch and moan. 

“Yes, like that!” Theseus praises, making Asterius’ head spin even faster trying to keep up with his sinful words and touches, all overwhelming in the best way. 

“King, please– I’ve– I’ve never,” Asterius grunts, feeling _something_ begin to build in his belly. 

“Has no one else had the pleasure of touching you, my bull? Am I the first to take part in such a delicious offering?” Theseus demands, voice catching. 

“Just you,” he grits, trying to keep his hips from rolling up to meet Theseus’ stroking. 

Theseus groans and laughs, “How wonderful, how lucky am I to show you, to have you experience pleasures of the flesh, Asterius! I’m quite curious as to how you’ll react to this–” 

Before he can question the king, Theseus leans down to take the head of his cock in his mouth, tongueing at the slit and sucking gently. “Ngh!” Asterius grunts, head falling back and hand moving to Theseus’ hair without accord. 

Theseus hums his response, the vibration making Asterius arch even further. His mouth moves lower, struggling to take in his length but making up for it by his eagerness. He twists his hand around Asterius’ cock as his cheeks hollow, swiping his tongue across the sides and head. 

“Theseus– King,” Asterius grunts, grasping his hair. The heat around him only grows as Theseus sinks down further, causing the wave in his abdomen to grow stronger, reaching. Lacking a frame of reference, he’s not sure when the moment should arrive, but Gods is it coming. 

“Release, or– I fear I shall–” Asterius says, trying and failing to form a coherent sentence with Theseus humming around him, spare hand stroking his thigh. 

He releases long enough to say, “Fear not, my friend. Simply chase your pleasure, I shall remain here,” before returning to his position laving a tongue around the head of his cock.

As Theseus takes him further down, hand twisting around the base, Asterius can feel the wave rise again, growing stronger as he stares down at the sight. The king’s cock is visible– hard and wet from where it bobs unattended, making Asterius groan at the sight. His hips rise in reflex as the feeling grows, Theseus hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard with a wandering hand that squeezes his balls finally set him off and he’s _coming_ , hips falling and rising his Theseus milks his cock, cum escaping around his lips. 

“Gods, Theseus,” he mutters, pleasure turning to sensitivity as he softens. The king gives his cock one last kiss before retreating, tongue searching the cum splattered around his mouth from Asterius. The sight nearly kills him once more. 

“How exquisite you are, Asterius, that was simply wonderful– I–” he says, bring a hand down to stroke his own cock, a now even brighter red. “I’m already, already close, my love–” 

Asterius surges forward to replace Theseus’ hand with his own, engulfing his cock in his palm and squeezing. Theseus moans and thrusts his hips forward, fucking into his grip leisurely. 

“Oh– Asterius, you’re so _big_ , I–” Theseus pants, eyes screwed shut, “I could barely take you in my mouth I’m not quite sure how you’ll fit inside me–” making both of them groan at the thought, Theseus falling over to support himself on his lover. 

“Look at you, king,” Asterius says, earning a moan in response. “Pleasure yourself, allow me to watch, please–”

“Anything,” Theseus gasps, “you can have anything, everything, Asterius,” fully leaning against Asterius now, panting as he fucks into his fist. 

He’s not sure what’s going through his mind as Asterius snorts and says, “Come for me, my king,” but is rewarded by a strangeled moan and one last stuttered thrust before his hand is wet, covered in Theseus’ cum. 

“Gods,” Theseus mutters, extracting from his grip. He pushes Asterius back to lay down and promptly falls on top of him. “That was wonderful, my love, and I must say, you do make quite a comfortable bed!” 

He snorts, amused. “That is all I wanted to hear.” 

“See! You do jest!”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! please feel free to leave kudos or a comment, they make me really happy :] 
> 
> ALSO I'm going to shamelessly plug another hades fic i wrote, some fluffy rated G thanzag [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27487252) because that's still my favorite fic I've written :>
> 
> ill put a link to my twitter [HERE](https://twitter.com/shortkingzag), feel free to follow or check out my linktree!! <3


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